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Chapter 2:
Chapter 2: The Warparty
Setting: Darrow Mill, a small settlement three days ride south-east of Alterac
Time: October, 5 years later
The township of Darrow Mill had started fifty-some years ago as a town hall next to a gold mine with enough farms to support the miners and their families. It had remained that way for most of the town's long life.
Now, with Orcish raids along the shores of Lordaeron becoming more frequent and the Orcish Horde growing stronger in the south, all the coastal and inland towns were being supplied with troops and more workers. The forest to the east of the town had remained unmolested for centuries, save for cutting down several trees to build the settlement itself. Now there were teams of hardworking peasants chopping down the huge ironwood trees for the production of new buildings.
From one of those ironwood trees, a pair of Trolls watched the hustle and bustle of the small town.
Danche, now a full warrior, sat in the crook of the tree, sixty hands from the ground. Laying on his stomach on a branch above him was Ulrek, a young troll from the far eastern part of Quel'Thalas. They were both well experience in hunting, scouting, and hiding. Since Zuljin had taken control of most of the tribes nearly a half decade ago, he had sent several such scouting parties out to make accurate maps and strength assessments of the towns that dotted the countryside of Lordaeron and Quel'Thalas.
Both Trolls were wearing leather loin cloths and were both covered from head to foot in dark mud mixed with soot to camouflage themselves against the dark brown trunk of the tree. Ulrek had to coat his face and hair extra thick, for his face and hair was white as milk. The two of them had been watching this town for over a month now and kept tabs on almost everything that had been happening. They both remained stone-still and spoke to each other softly between clenched teeth.
" I got 'bout....twenty-seven footmen. Maybe eighteen archers." Ulrek hissed.
"What about those towers? They look armed?" Danche hissed back, staring at the three watch towers on the outskirts of the town.
"No. They have a lumber mill, but it doesn_t look like they have upgraded their towers yet. No blacksmith either. The troops must not have good swords and armor."
"They may get their weapons from Tarren Mill or even Alterac. They may not have a blacksmith shop because they don_t need one. Besides, there is a lumber mill, so their Elves must have the finest arrows."
If Ulrek had dared to move, he would have nodded.
"I also see about twenty-three farms, and a barracks on the far side of the lumber mill. I count somewhere between forty and fifty workers. About half and half between mining and wood cutting. Then there is the town hall, of course."
Danche nodded. "If we had enough warriors, we could take the town. I'm going to tell Zuljin that this should be the next town we hit."
"Stonehead won't like it." Ulrek whispered in a warning tone.
"Ask me if I care." Danche snarled back. He watched a pair of peasants wrestle a large log out of the forest less then fifty yards from them. The line of woodcutters would be getting too close to their hideout.
"Come," Danche said when the workers were a safe distance away, "We better get out of here before somebody sees us." The two Trolls quickly slipped out of the tree and swiftly ran into the forest.
Standing around a table in a large tent, Danche and Ulrek explained the layout of Darrow Mill to Zuljin.
"You can see here the tree line's been cut back a few hundred hands since the town was scouted last year. That'll make a sneak attack almost impossible with those three watch towers." Ulrek said, indicating the map of the township they had drawn with chalk on a leather skin. "They've also built a Barracks, one of the new kind, big enough to train troops and house them. We counted around thirty footmen and twenty or so Elven Archers."
Zuljin made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh. "What kind of weapons do they have? How well made?"
Danche spoke up. "There are five footmen that look and act like veterans so they'll probably have good swords and armor, but the rest look to be fresh out of the local barracks. Peasants and peasant's sons. I imagine their swords and armor will be the cheapest." He pointed at the map of the town where posts and patrols of the archers were indicated.
"I'm most worried about the archers. Lumber production is the major part of their economy, followed by the mine. Lots of lumber means the mill will have skilled craftsmen. That means they will have good arrows."
Zuljin stared at the map a few seconds.
"What do you think we would gain by raiding this town?"
"Well, we've seen that every seven days, a troop of soldiers, carrying the Alterac banner, comes to the town escorting two wagons, one carrying five strong chests. The kind of chests that carry large amounts of gold pieces. They arrive in the late afternoon and leave early the next morning. When they leave the troop is more alert and watchful. I think that they arrive and the night is spent loading large amounts of gold into the chests for them to take back to Alterac."
"What kind of troops guard the gold shipment? Knights?"
"One knight, and eight mounted footmen."
Zuljin nodded thoughtfully. "What do you think we should do to relieve these Humans of their wealth?"
"Well," Danche started, "As I said before, the troops don't come until late afternoon, so, I think that we should hit the town that morning, at least two hours before sunrise. Humans are most tired and groggy then, and they have horrible vision in the dark."
Zuljin nodded. It seemed to make sense. "How do you think the attack should go down?"
"From the west."
"The grasslands?" Zuljin asked, skeptically.
"If given the choice between forest and grasslands, no one ever takes the grasslands." Zuljin looked up sharply at him. "The grasslands?"
"They won_t see us from any direction because of the light, it will be the last direction anyone expects us to come from. Any of our warriors can move like the wind through that tall grass."
"Hmmmmm..." Zuljin considered the map a moment. "How many troops will you need?"
"No less then fifty. Sixty if we can spare them."
"I see. Well, I will wait and see what Threkk has to report before deciding. If I don't like his plan then we will go ahead with the raid on Darrow Mill. Go get sixty warriors ready, just in case."
Danche and Ulrek nodded and left. They stepped outside into the bright sunlight and squinted at the walked toward the creek.
The temporary encampment had been set up for less then a month. The tents were all sticks and skins, and could be taken down and moved quickly. It was home to around a hundred Trolls, all warriors. They were a roving warparty, moving around raiding villages and attacking travelers in southern and middle Quel'Thalas. They traveled and raided for most of the spring and summer, then in fall they moved back upwards to spend the winter in one of the permanent encampments in the northern Alterac Mountains. This practice is the origin of the human saying "Trolling around."
The warparty's encampment was strategically placed on the peninsula created by a small creek fifteen hands wide, and at least seven hands deep. It would prevent any human forces form crossing, but a Troll warrior could jump across the creek carrying a pack his own weight on his back.
Danche and Ulrek both waded into the creek and stood in the center, with their heads cocked up so only their faces broke the surface of the water. They were leaning against the current, letting the water cool them off and wash the mud from their lime green bodies. They ducked under the water several times to wash out the mud that had caked in their hair. Ulrek's shock-white hair was shaved in a mowhawk that stood up and was longer then most Trolls tended to wear theirs. Danche's bright red hair was shaved in a V that started thin above his forehead and widened as it reached the back of his head. It was spiked and swept back in the front and left in a long mane that was cut narrower as it went down his back.
After a while, the two young warriors were joined by several other Trolls. They all swam and chatted about their homes, their mates and potential mates, and scouting missions. Danche told several of them of his plan to sack Darrow Mill. Word spread and by the time "Stonehead" Threkk's scouting party had arrived, Danche already had thirty-five of the younger trolls talking about taking Darrow Mill as if Zuljin had made up his mind.
Coincidentally, Threkk and Danche had both come from the same tribe. Threkk was five years older then Danche, and had a slate-gray face and hair. Along with that and the fact some joked his head was made of rock, he had earned the nickname "Stonehead". He wasn't very smart but he had a definite following among the younger Trolls. In fact most of the younger warriors tended to sway toward loyalty to Danche or Stonehead. This of course, only intensified the natural rivalry both of them felt for each other.
Stonehead was a ruthless and brutal warrior, and was quick and cunning when it came to fighting but he had so much courage it was foolish. He was also rather cruel and had a quick temper.
"The fool would probably chase a deer all night through the mountains because it missed his spear", Mahkalor once said of him. Most other Trolls who met him tended to agree.
Danche crawled up to the bank and started toward Zuljin's tent.
"Where are you going?" Ulrek asked.
"To find out what kind of suicidal bloodbath old Stonehead has in for us."
Ulrek laughed. "Try not to break any teeth if your going to bite his head off!"
Danche wasn't disappointed. Stonehead's plan was everything he expected it to be. Too long a march against too many enemies in a township too well defended, too close to another city with too many re-enforcements.
"Look at this." Danche said pointing at the map. "The town is twice the size of Darrow Mill, it has a garrison of about a hundred footmen, it has six guard towers, there is no cover to approach it from, and it is less than a day's ride form Stromgarde. Less than a day! We would be fodder for six dozen knights before we even tended to our wounded. And the Lord of Stromgarde would send that much and more. You know how much the people of Stromgarde hate Trolls."
Stonehead wasn't phased. "But look, they have a stockpile of gold ten times more then Darrow Mill and they import thousands of barrels of oil a day going from Stratholm to Stromgaurd. Think of how much we could gain from such wealth!"
"It won't help if we are all to dead to spend it!"Danche snapped.
"But we could take them! I have faith in our warriors. Faith that you obviously don't share."
Danche's eyes narrowed. "I have plenty of faith in our warriors. But I also want them to fight a battle they have a chance of winning. All the gold and oil in the world won't do much good if our trolls can't return it to their wives and children."
That was a rather cruel barb, for Stonehead had not yet found a mate and the future was looking bleak for all his efforts.
Zuljin broke the cold silence.
"Danche is right. The risks far outweigh the benefits. Darrow mill is ripe for the picking. It will be our last raid before returning to the valley, and I want it to go well."
He turned to Danche. "Get your attack force ready. You will leave for Darrow Mill tonight and the attack will commence tomorrow morning, yes?"
Danche nodded.
"Good. Take your sixty troops with two more commanders besides yourself."
He turned to Threkk. "You will remain here with me and the other forty-four warriors to pack up the camp. We will follow Danche's force a day later at Darrow Mill. From there we will move to meet the other warparties north of the bend. Get to it."
Danche couldn't help throwing Stonehead a victorious smirk as he left to prepare his raiding party.
By the time the sun was hovering over the horizon, Danche had collected sixty armed warriors and two more commanders. All the Trolls were dressed for battle. They were wearing short shorts made from shaggy bear skin and decorative cuffs on their lower calves and forearms. The Trolls, like Ulrek, that had bright coloring had painted their faces black with soot. They carried and assortment of weapons, from hand-made to weapons they had stolen form humans. Some carried swords and battle axes they had taken from human barracks and armories, along with home fashioned spears and knives. The most common were stolen tools that had been fashioned for use in war. A favorite was the peasant axe that had a mining pick opposite the blade. If sharpened it was a devastating close-quarter weapon. All the Trolls carried round wooden shields strapped to their left forearms, four hands across and half a hand thick.
Many of the Trolls had pierced one of their long, pointed ears, and all of them had some form of good luck charm. Danche was wearing a necklace made with a leather strip and decorated with the finger bones of the late Eric Henstoff.
Danche chose a young fuchsia-haired troll named Grafficane to be one of the pack leaders. Grafficane had been friends with Danche since childhood. He was the son of the chief of one of the southern tribes, and had spent most of his childhood swimming and fishing from Troll longboats. Many of the northern chieftains had protested that southern tribes shouldn't be included in war marches, because of their lack of experience with land-based combat. But any Sea-Troll could impale a spear through a moving target at three hundred hands, so they were invited to the warparties to counter the strength of the Elven Archers when they were too far away for a throwing axe to be accurate.
Grafficane was always smiling and joking, making jokes and playing tricks. He was colorful and outgoing, so he was a natural leader, especially among the other southern trolls. He would be in charge of the "Chuckers" as they were referred to. Trolls that carried several spears and more then two axes. Grafficane wore four six-hand-long spears on his back and one more in his hand, along with a spear thrower made of an elk femur. On his belt, he wore six throwing axes and four more were hung on the bandoleer across his chest. All the other Chuckers carried a similar assortment of weapons. Sharp and easy to throw. Their main job would be to support the hand-to-hand fighters and "crowd control",take down any of the townsfolk that tried to flee the town for help. Mostly the peasants hid in a cellar or basement until the raid was over. Hiding out in a cellar was a much better option then trying to get away from an armed savage that could run three times faster then you.
The other pack leader was Melikin, son of Makahlor. Melikin was a veteran by now, twenty eight years old, he had been going on raids longer then most of the warriors in the camp. He was an experienced battle commander, and even though he was grim as Grafficane was happy, he was one of Danche's most trusted friends. He wasn't the least bit put off when Danche started courting his sister.
Melikin was a giant among Trolls, a full eight hands tall and much stronger than an average Troll, some joked that he was part Ogre. Along with a single throwing axe and a shield, he carried a hunting spear, a battle axe, and a sledge hammer. He and two other warriors would be the "Crackers". It would be their job to capture the Magistrate and have him take them to the gold, or break into the town hall and discover the location of the gold and kill any guards and crack open any vault doors.
Danche would lead the remaining thirty seven warriors in the direct assault against the town. They would first have to kill the human and elven defenders, kill and peasants that made trouble, then round up and account for all the townsfolk, to make sure none escaped to warn any other townships. Finally, all of the groups would get together and ransack the town, taking food, tools, cloth, anything useful or valuable.
Danche check the assembled Trolls, telling each of them of the plan to sack the town. Along with his shield strapped to his left arm, he carried a single spear and a thrower in his right arm, two throwing axes at his belt, and a human broadsword he had taken from the same footman whose fingers adorned his neck. The sword was four hands long, enormous for a human to carry but regular sized to a seven-hand Troll. It was crafted from the finest steel, and had belonged to the young footman's father, a captain during the first war between the Humans and Orcs. It was to akward to carry on his belt, so it was in its sheath, strapped across his back where his extra spears would normally go.
"Allright!" Danche screamed at the gathered pack. "We will sneak into the grassy hills on the western side of the town and begin moving into the town two hours before sunrise. We will sneak slowly through the flat grassy field and when I give the call, we will RUSH!"
The assembled warriors screamed a war cry and began banging their shields. Danche lead them on a swift march out of the encampment toward Darrow Mill.
A young footman named Robert was standing on top of the western watch tower with his elbows propped up on the parapets, gazing at the star filled sky. His companion, Henry, walked the thirty foot diameter of the tower roof, carefully measuring his steps. His steel booted feet hit the stone regular as the ticking of a clock.
"Would you knock it off?" Robert whispered hoarsely. "You've been at that for the last hour since you came up here, and no matter how many times you walk it, the tower will always be ten paces across!"
"Its better then starin' at th' sky for the last four hours, like you've no doubt been doing!"
Robert's cheeks flushed and he turned away. He had been doing nothing but staring at the sky, but you ran out of entertainment after four hours of watch duty. Three guards were posted in each tower every night and they rotated, so there were always two on duty and one sleeping in the tower's single room below them.
Personally, Robert didn't understand why two had to be on watch at the same time. It just meant three hours' less sleep. Darrow Mill was in that stretch of land between Alterac and Stromgarde that was one of the safest on the continent. Plus, they were so far inland from the coastline, there would be no way an Orcish invasion force could travel this far without being detected.
But Henry was right. Staring at the stars never seemed to help. He switched down to watching the grasslands. It sure was flat, grassy terrain, rolling with hills, so it was terrible for farming, except maybe about a half-mile west, where it was fairly flat. No one had bothered to farm it though. Darrow mill was all about mining and lumber. The land was excellent hunting though, Robert reflected. In fact, he could barely see the outline of the grass as it shifted and moved around a herd of deer that moved across the field.
He watched the deer's progress a few minutes, as they moved slowly though the field towards the town. Robert snorted. Must be mule deer, he thought. Only mulies are stupid enough to head straight for a town. But as he watched them, he began to grow uneasy. He couldn't see to well in the dark but the number of rustles he could see would make an impressive herd of deer. He stood squarely up gazing at the field and tried counting the rustles, but stopped around thirty.
"What is it?" Henry asked, staring at him.
"Get the light." Robert replied.
In the corner on the far side was a large metallic bowl, three feet in diameter, with a handle attached to the rim. The inside was polished and reflective as a mirror. The handle punched through the bowl and ended in a torch. They lit the torch and Robert hoisted it up and pointed the primitive spotlight to the field.
His heart jumped into his throat as the light reflected green light off sixty pairs of eyes that all seemed to be staring right at him.
The bowl clattered to the floor and Henry was down the stairs in a flash to secure the tower door. Robert picked up the large brass alert bell and began ringing if and screaming "TO ARMS! TO ARMS!". But his cries were drowned out by the horrible shrieking howl that rose from the field and seemed to roll over the town as the Trolls charged.
© 1999 Andrew